“How do you lose your wolf?” Stiles asks incredulously, sitting up in bed. “It’s not like you can just set it down and forget where you put it.”
There’s a pause before Derek says, through what sounds like gritted teeth, “I don’t know how it happened. I’ve only ever read that it could happen.”
Stiles scoffs. “Your life is wild, man.”
There’s a rustle over the line before Scott says, “Hey, it’s me now. We just wanted to let you know what was going on so you wouldn’t go out tonight.” Before Stiles can say anything, Scott adds hastily, “This is me asking you specifically to not go out tonight. We don’t know how it’s – he’s? – going to react.”
Contrary to popular belief, Stiles does not enjoy nearly dying every other day. Sure, it was exciting for the first five, maybe six times, but now it’s just kind of tedious. And he’s already in his pajamas.
“Not a problem,” Stiles assures him. “It is just me and John McClain tonight. No wolves allowed.”
Just as he finishes his sentence, he hears a scratch at his window and a pitiful whine. Stiles can hear Scott talking, but he’s not getting any of it because-
“Uh, Scott? I think I found it. Or, it found me?”
“What? Stiles! Did you-“
He hangs up on Scott midsentence. He’s pretty sure the large, black wolf standing right outside his window is more important. He knows he should be afraid, but he’s Stiles so he walks over to get a better look at it. When the wolf spots him, it plants both paws on the glass, wags its tail, and yips happily.
Of all the things he was expecting, that was not one of them.
“Uh, hey big guy,” Stiles says, taking a tentative step closer to the window. “How’s it going?”
The wolf taps its paw on the glass and whines.
“You wanna come in?” Stiles ventures, stepping a little closer.
It is a supremely bad idea. Stiles has had many, many bad ideas, so he can recognize one pretty easily by now. But when he puts his hand up to the glass, the wolf tries to lick it, and that just doesn’t scream “killer” to him.
“Please don’t eat me,” Stiles mutters as he slowly slides the window open. “I’ll never hear the end of it.”
The wolf does not eat him. It does, however, run excitedly around him twice, before jumping up to put its paws on his shoulders and lick a thick, slobbery stripe up his neck and cheek, all the way to his hairline.
“Oh, dude!” Stiles shoves the wolf’s face away, laughing. “Gross.”
The wolf just leans back in and rubs its cheek along Stiles’. Apparently it will not be denied. Which wouldn’t be a big deal, but the thing is heavy and Stiles is not properly equipped for the situation.
“Okay, I’m about to fall over, so how about we take this party to my bed.” He sighs. “It figures the first time I get to say that sentence, it’s to a dog.”
The wolf growls.
“Oh my god, fine. Wolf. There’s really no doubt you’re Derek’s, huh.”
It takes some tricky maneuvering and some shoving because, seriously, heavy wolf and scrawny boy do not a great combination make, but both eventually end up comfortable. Stiles is laying on his back with the wolf draped down his side, its nose buried in his neck. It tickles a little, but he’ll deal.
Scott and Derek burst into his room twenty minutes later to find both Stiles and the wolf soundly asleep, Stiles’ fingers curled gently into its fur.
“Deaton thinks I’m touch-starved,” Derek says the moment Stiles opens his front door.
It’s been about four days since Derek’s wolf was unceremoniously ripped out of Stiles’ bed and carted off to the vet’s office, so it takes Stiles a minute to work out what Derek’s even talking about. “Wait, are you saying your wolf emancipated itself because you don’t get enough hugs?”
Derek angrily nods. It’s kind of hilarious.
“And you want me to help you with this problem?”
Derek looks physically pained as he does this weird shrug-nod-thing, like he just can’t bring himself to ask for it. Stiles tries and fails to not find it horribly endearing.
“Well,” he opens his front door wide enough that Derek can slip in past him, “since you have better manners than your wolf and actually rang my doorbell this time, I guess I’ll allow it.”
“I asked Scott, but he was busy,” Derek says as Stiles leads him up to his room.
“Scott is busy a lot these days,” Stiles says agreeably.
“You don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I know. Now take off your shoes and get down here.” Stiles flops back onto his bed with open arms and wiggles his fingers a little.
Derek pauses at the edge of the bed. “Are you sure?”
Stiles rolls his eyes. “It’s not like we’re getting married. We are napping. I like napping. I was just about to nap when you showed up, so you basically owe me this.”
Derek huffs, but he finally climbs in, pressing himself along Stiles’ side just like his wolf had. He even presses his nose into Stiles’ neck. It sends goosebumps along his collarbone.
“I didn’t ask Scott,” Derek says softly after a minute, trying to burrow in closer to Stiles’ skin.
Stiles smiles into his hair. “I know.”
Anonymous said: top five things stiles hates most
- scott’s dad